


Selfish Desires

by OlympianWine



Category: Loki - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Drama, Dubious Morality, F/M, Jealous Loki, King Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Manipulative Loki, Marriage Contracts, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Power Play, Rating May Change, Rejection, Revenge, Romance, Royalty, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlympianWine/pseuds/OlympianWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has never been a selfless man. Now sitting openly upon the throne of Asgard, he seeks alliances with other worlds to protect himself. He wants power, not love. But when a certain woman catches his eye he is drawn into the sordid affairs of her court, and when tragedy strikes he is there to offer aid. But Loki has never been a selfless man. Everything comes at a cost. And the price is her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything that belongs to MARVEL/The MCU.
> 
> Yep, I'm redoing this again. I wasn't happy with the tone and direction the first time etc etc etc... Such is the life of a perfectionist. Just so you know, this story will contain smut and violence and some foul language. And I can promise that things start slow, but it gets juicier...

 

Ten days.

In all his centuries as Asgard's Gatekeeper, Heimdall had never known ten days so hushed and dismal. The city had not yet returned to its former state, before the Dark Elves attack, and the death of the queen and Thor's following abdication had left the realm in shock.

Heimdall feared they had not had the last shock yet.

He heard whispers. Odin, weary and grieving the loss of both wife and son -  _both sons_ , Heimdall amended, had retreated. Little was heard of his state, but his lack of action said enough. Only once had Heimdall dared to turn his sight to the king, but found him shielded.

Ten days.

His own mind weighed heavily with questions. What came next? Who would assume the throne? Who would be Asgard's leader, if not Thor?

In his heart, Heimdall knew he was disappointed.  _I'd rather be a good man than a great king._  His prince had grown wise. But what of duty and honour? What of Asgard? As he mused, staring out at the vast stars, seeing all souls, anxiety tugged at the Gatekeeper's heart. Nothing had been resolved. What storm was yet to come?

Little did he know it was already upon them.

"Gatekeeper! Gatekeeper!" He turned to the sound of thunderous footfalls. "A message from the palace,"the young servant panted, "the King, he is- he-"

"He requests my presence?" He asked, straightening his shoulders. The servant nodded frantically. Heimdall pulled his greatsword from its place. "Then I shall obey."

Odin's chambers were dim, and to Heimdall's surprise, busy. Noble lords stood around the king's bed, speaking in hushed tones. When the Gate-keeper's golden eyes fell upon the form of the king, he understood why.

Gone was Asgard's great All-Father; in his place was a frail old man, crippled by grief. Heimdall's eyes widened momentarily before he regained his composure. With respectful movements, he reached up and took off his golden helmet and went to kneel at Odin's bedside. "My King," he spoke solemnly with eyes fixed to the floor.

"Gate-keeper." Odin's voice was rasping and faint but it held an edge of curtness still. "I fear-" He coughed gruffly. "The healers tell me I've not long left." He turned his head and breathed deeply.

Heimdall spoke. "All-father. Shall I send for Th-"

"No!" Odin's knuckles stretched tight as they clutched at the sheet, before loosening again. The lords around them stopped their murmuring and fell silent. Heimdall's brow crinkled. "No. Thor has no need nor want for the throne - I would not cast on him such a burden."

"But then," Heimdall's voice was low with confusion, "who?"

No sooner had he spoken then the doors swung open. "My King!" The guard's eyes were wide and shocked. The room fell silent.

"What?" The All-father asked hoarsely.

"There is- I cannot-"

Gasps and cries that filled the chamber as a tall shadowy figure appeared in the doorway.

Heimdall felt his stomach drop. "No..."

Unkempt hair, dirt and bloodied, face weary but still recognisable. One word came to Heimdall's mind. Impossible.

The members of the council were pressed back, away from the dark prince of Asgard and whatever seidhr he could throw at them - their expressions varying from shock, to outrage, to terror. They were right to be terrified, Heimdall thought grimly.

But Loki pays them no attention. His eyes rest on the bed of the mighty king. "Father?"

"Loki?" Moisture fills Odin's one good eye as his estranged son approaches him. "I thought you dead."

"And I very nearly was, the dark elves, their magic is strong..." Loki paused. "But-"

"How did you survive?" A councillor interrupted him, and Loki's features twist momentarily _._

He gestured with his hands. "I know not. Only that I was lost for a time, barely surviving, but was fortunate to come across an Asgardian troop." His eyes, green and deceptively honest, lifted. "They have brought me home." A murmur of wonder ran through the courtiers and Heimdall notes Loki's lip quirk ever so slightly. No sooner had he thought it than Loki looks around the room. "But where is Thor?" he questioned, his voice filled with concern that the Gatekeeper is sure must be a pretense.

The All-father answers. "Your brother has given up the throne. He has returned to Midgard, to Jane Foster." Loki's narrow face is the picture of shock. It suits him too well, too easily, and uneasy thoughts creep to the fore of Heimdall's mind.

Loki leans close to Odin's ailing form, not touching, but hovering. "But All-father," his voice is serpentine, "who is to rule?"

His reply is a deep, rattling breath. The All-father stares at the raven haired man for a long moment before speaking. "I think it is evident what we must do," he says, looking to the courtiers. Heimdall freezes, unable to believe what is taking place. He continued. "We have all heard how Loki aided his brother in the defence of Asgard. Thor will not take the throne."

"In light of this, Loki is the evident successor. He has proven his worth and I do not doubt he will serve Asgard well. Do you agree to this?" They all nod and murmur agreement, although there are a few who look a little more disgusted than others. Heimdall is among them, although he keeps it well hidden. "Then it is done. This is my will." Odin turns to the figure at his bedside. "You have my blessing." He stretches out a feeble hands and pushes Gungnir towards him. It falls, and Loki's hand shoots out immediately and grasps it greedily. Odin falls back against his pillows with a weak sigh.

Loki's face is turned away and Heimdall cannot see him, but there is no doubt in his mind that the Trickster is smiling. His heart beats heavily, filled with dread. Loki is no longer a harmless prince who longs to be admired - he is a master of seidhr, a fallen conqueror, a traitor and a killer. The Gate-keeper thinks all of this as Loki straightens and turns to them.

"Leave me with my father, so that he may spend his last moments in peace," he says gracefully, suddenly composed and controlling.

None move.

Loki's face tightens, and all see his fingertips flex around the golden spear. His voice is insidious. "Now."

There is no pause this time as the councillors rush for the door - but Heimdall stands still. "You too, Gate-Keeper." His amber eyes lock with Loki's cold green gaze, and he can see nothing in them. The traitor raises a brow mockingly, "Haven't you a post to attend to?"

With difficulty, Heimdall manages to bow his head and turn his limbs. When the grand doors shut behind him, he stands immobile, his heart racing. Odin has given Loki the throne, in the presence of many. The corridor is silent, although in the distance he can hear chatter. It means nothing to him.

Loki is king, and none can deny it.

* * *

Alone in the darkness, Odin's eyelids lift, revealing green irises. Silently, a wave of magic combed over the figure lying on the bed. White hair turned black. Weathered flesh changed to smooth ivory skin. Lined hands peeled away to reveal dexterous fingers.

Loki grinned.

* * *

It never took much for Asgardians to throw a celebration. Deaths, births, achievements, losses, there was a feast for them all. The last banquet thrown for him had been to mark his first Millenium. Asgardians didn't celebrate yearly as the mortals did, it was pointless when they lived so long. Thor had arranged for lightning to burn against the night sky in the shape of his name until dawn, and also for a pretty girl clad in green to be sent to his rooms afterwards.

He smiled a little at the memory. He had enjoyed both his presents.

There were a number of people wearing green and gold, he realised. No doubt a small effort to make a good impression upon their new King. Volstagg even had a sprig of green tied into the end of his beard.

The huge warrior was sitting at a long bench, a few of his brood clustered around him, chattering happily. Loki was beginning to understand how to satisfy the people. Keep them safe and keep them merry. Easy. He averted his gaze from them, standing and moving over to the large stone windows. He'd never known quite what to do with himself around families.

Loki took a moment to enjoy the cool air. Asgard was in the middle of winter, and it was never more evident than in the night. Small flakes of snow drifted across the kingdom, lit up by the golden sheen thrown off the palace. He moved out onto the balcony, leaning forward against the frigid stone wall.

A minute movement caught his hearing. Loki turned, ready to greet whoever it was who had followed him. He almost sighed when he saw who it was.

"Sif." How very predictable.

She jerked her head down in a action that was only just brushing the boundaries between rudeness and respect. "My... King." Ill-concealed contempt dripped from every syllable. A bold move considering he had just freed her and the Warriors Three from the prisons, and then made her Captain of the Guard.

Loki raised a brow. "What is it?"

She straightened, determination clear in her every movement. "I was wondering - seeing as you are now ruler of the nine realms - is it not within your power to bring back Thor?" His jaw almost dropped. Sif had never been a fool; surely she did not really think he would bring back his brother now that the throne was his?

"Sif, I want him to be happy just as much as you do." There was a layer of velvet to his words. "You do wish for Thor to be happy, do you not?"

She looked and sounded indignant. "Of course I do!"

"As do I. Thor has chosen to give up the throne for Jane Foster. He is happy. The very last thing I would want to do would be to break that contentment that he has found, on Midgard - with the Midgardian. You see?" A curious range of emotions passed across the warrior's features but she did not falter. That was something he had always admired about Sif; her resilience.

He watched in amusement as she struggled to control her voice. "I see."

"So there we have it. It would be utterly selfish of me to summon him back." He did his best to contain his satisfaction as her shoulders lowered little by little. He was winning this fight. "My apologies Sif; I know you were close."

That was the final push. The woman bowed her head quickly again, muttered a curt goodbye, and strode back into the hall.

Loki blinked. Then he turned back to admire the scenery.

* * *

Loki strolled through the vast corridors of the palace alone. He passed nobles, servants, guards. None of them recognised his presence. He smiled to himself - he was indeed a master of magic. During his time in the prisons, left to his own devices, Loki had used his time to hone his magic. Now he was able to camouflage himself without his reflection being visible even in mirrors.

His way was abruptly blocked by a blonde soldier, his arms draped around two painted Asgardian women. He held a goblet of mead in one hand. "And then, I smite the beast, with naught but my bare hands," he boasted; the mead sloshing dangerously in the goblet. Loki pressed his lips together in disgust. Such inelegance was thoroughly unwelcome at his court.

And the idiot was still blocking his way.

The soldier laughed, his blonde hair falling over his shoulders as he threw his head back. Loki watched as the wine in his hand twisted out of the goblet and landed on the floor in front of him, turning into a frozen burgundy puddle. One which the man's foot pressed on and slid, sending the warrior and both his admirers into painful positions on the ground.

Loki stepped over an outstretched leg and continued his tread. Behind him he could hear cries of, "My leg! I think it's broken!" He suppressed a dry smirk.

The corridors grew quieter as he neared the council chamber. A large room with golden sconces and tall windows where he and Thor had once sat watching Odin discuss laws, taxes, crimes, and all of the duller things that came with ruling.

Thor had never sat through a whole session - he always stated it was "unbelievably boring, especially when there were much better things to be doing!"  _Better things_  usually involved fighting or drinking. Sometimes both. Loki however, had sat patiently, sometimes even rejecting his brother's invitations to observe the proceedings.

It was times like these, when Thor would leave the room to an array of bows and farewells, that Odin would see the black-haired child sitting there still and give him a small smile. When Loki was a boy he had thought that meant Odin was proud of him. Now all he saw was deception. And now it was he who sat at the head of the table.

He stepped inside the room to the buzz of chatter from the men sitting at the long, polished table. Snatches of conversation drifted to him as he crossed the room.

"...not much, but she still lost her temper..."

"That's it, well you can't hire anyone these days..."

"...definitely. He's not to be trusted."

The last sentence got his attention. He could count the councillors that trusted him on one hand. He tried not to let it irk him. He would show them.

"Well that's entirely a matter of opinion old chap. You may not trust him, but you can't deny Loki knows what he's about." That was Fandral.

It had been a slight surprise to Loki that the charmer was so at ease with his rule. Perhaps he was being smart; maybe he was grateful; even still saw him as a friend - Loki didn't know or particularly care. The fact was that Fandral - as much as he was somewhat of an annoyance to the King - held sway with members of the council for being a friend of Thor, and therefore they respected his judgement.

The councillor that had spoken - a wide, older noble with a neat beard, argued. "He's a traitor! Thor was the one destined for the throne, and Odin would never have allotted it to Loki!"

He was lucky he could not see the king at that moment.

"Well obviously, he did." Fandral replied in slight exasperation. "Look fellows; I'm not saying Loki is unstained as such; but look at what he's doing. Asgard is already nearly repaired, the people are content, and I don't see any executions so far." There were a few murmurs of agreement along the table. "And as for being a traitor - he saved Thor's life, or do you forget? I'm not entirely sure how that is an act of treason."

Loki let the magic slip away from him. "Thank you for that speech Fandral."

"My King!"

"Your Grace!"

He nodded, soaking in the surprised exclamations as the councillors hurried to greet him properly. He continued, "Such friends will be rewarded. As will those," he smiled at the other councillor, who sat with his mouth in a tight line, "who are not so amicable."

A heavy silence fell. Loki sat back, the only person in the room perfectly at ease.

After a few moment, they began to discuss matters. As the King of Asgard, Loki had to visit each of the realms at least once a year. He agreed without hesitation, knowing how important it was that each world understood his authority. "Not Midgard, however," Fandral amended. "That would be, ah, unwise."

"Certainly." What did he need Midgard for now? He had the real throne. "Besides, with Thor residing there I am sure Midgard is perfectly safe." Loki made sure to mention his brother every so often; it seemed to have an effect on some of the court. There had been a few minor uprisings on Vanaheim and Alfheim, advocating Thor's return. He crossed his legs beneath the table, shifting. "And I trust all the realms are at ease?"

"Lady Sif is dealing with the troublemakers, my liege."

"Good." He scanned the table, "Is that all?"

Fandral spoke, gesturing around him. "My King, some of us have been talking. We cannot afford be in this position again. The war took too much from us."

Almost immediately noise broke out. "We survived, did we not?"

Loki listened intently as Fandral continued to speak. "Barely. This war; it has shown all of us that even Asgard is not invulnerable. There are other worlds, other armies."

His former friend had a point. There were other worlds - with much crueller leaders than the Asgardians could imagine. A fleeting image of a red-skinned fiend entered his mind. Loki leaned back in his chair, his long fingers pressed together as he thought. "We need to ally ourselves with influential peoples, so that we are secure."

"Exactly!" Fandral nodded enthusiastically in his direction.

"And who would you recommend?" Loki questioned. His eyes narrowed, "I trust you have given thought to the matter?"

There was a pause, and Fandral did not respond. Another councillor inferred. "Why not the Olympians?"

Loki's tone was condescending. "Zeus? Olympus is strong, but they have always been too impulsive. Zeus and his brothers have not left the comfort of their own world in many millenia now. No - I think not." He frowned as the buzz of conversation continued, every so often a suggestion given. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. "Who was it," his tone was careful, "that the All-Father fought with? In the early days of his reign. Surely one of you must remember."

"Avalon." The councillor who had opposed him spoke.

Avalon. "Who is their King?"

"Arawn, I believe."

"Hm." He drummed his fingertips against the varnished table. "They must be strong, to fight against the All-Father and live."

"It was more a disagreement than a fight my Lord. But we had a treaty with them once."

Loki raised a brow. "Is that so? Invite the Avalonian ambassador to court."

Fandral protested, sounding a little apprehensive. "But how will they get here?"

"Can Heimdall see them?"

There was a slight murmuring, "They are not within Yggdrasil, I doubt it my King." He frowned; that was a fault. "However, I believe it is accessible through the Bifrost, although they may be hostile with no prior warning-"

"We'll use the Bifrost."

"But-"

Loki interrupted, his voice stern. "I said, use the Bifrost." His eyes flickered around the table, daring anyone to speak against him. Nobody did. He sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he spoke, "Send a messenger ahead - I'll write a letter. They are not to return without an answer." He glanced up. "Is business concluded?"

There were nods all round, and then the council was up and leaving. Loki could already imagine the gossip that would spread once the court heard that he had proposed a treaty. As he stood the chief architect bowed. "My lord I wanted to inform you that Queen Frigga's statue has been finished. Shall we mount it in the Hall?"

Loki had ordered a stone and gold likeness of his mother to be created, just as the dead kings before him. Odin had no such tribute. "No. Have it raised in the central gardens, facing east."

"Yes, your Grace." The architect left, mumbling instructions to himself.

Loki quickly strode out of the room. He went straight to his chambers and began to write a formal letter for the ambassador to take. It took him only a short time to pen; words flowed from the ink easily, persuasive and alluring. He sealed the letter with green wax. "Guard!"

The door swung open to reveal an armoured Asgardian. He passed the letter to him. "Take this to the royal ambassador - no one else is to touch it, do you understand?"

"Yes, my liege."

"Good. And tell him I want him in Avalon by tomorrow morning, he will be there to propose a treaty on my behalf." Loki dismissed him with a curt nod. The guard left, boots thudding along noisily.

Loki smiled, pouring himself a small glass of wine. With the reparations nearly completed and peace being negotiated, there could be no question left in his subjects minds that he would be a good king. Yet there were some still disquieted. He frowned as this came to mind, setting the glass down on the desk and looking towards the Bifrost.

* * *

"Heimdall."

The guardian inclined his head, "My King."

Loki pulled off the riding gloves that were covering his hands, stepping onto the dais to join the watcher as he stared at the stars. "All is well?"

"Some commotion on Vanaheim still. None to be feared, however."

"I do not fear," Loki was quick to correct him. The amber-eyed man looked at him and he tried to quash the urge to fidget. Heimdall was indeed an observer. He put a smile on his face, "I am actually here to notify you of something." He could see he had his attention, "I have decided to align Asgard with-"

"Avalon. I have heard."

The interruption irked him, but he brushed it off. News travelled fast. "What do you think?"

Heimdall's gaze did not move from the stars. "I neither judge nor condemn the King of Asgard's decisions."

Loki stared at him. So that was how it was going to be. A small smirk grew across his face, "Indeed. I have heard you cannot see Avalon?"

"I cannot."

"May I ask how they managed to travel using the Bifrost? I will need to know."

The guardian was silent for a long moment. Loki raised a brow, "I assume there is a specific way, or direction? I do not want to lose our ambassador to the vast reaches of space." Was it his imagination or did Heimdall look surprised? Loki almost laughed, "No need to appear shocked. Were you expecting a cruel King?"

"No."

 _Lies_. The smile dropped from Loki's pale face. Heimdall turned the sword, sending the golden walls around them moving with jarring noises. The west was now open to them. "I believe it lies outside of Yggdrasil, to the north west." He gestured towards the worlds far off. "I would have to direct the Bifrost, first towards Vanaheim, but then turn it toward Midgard. The beam should travel between the worlds and out of Yggdrasil, until it reaches Avalon."

"And you can do this?" Loki questioned, his curiousity peaked.

Heimdall nodded hesitantly. "Although I have not for few millennia-"

"I'm sure you'll manage." Loki pulled his gloves back on as he turned the sword, reverting the walls back to their usual places. "Oh, and Heimdall? How is my brother?"

Heimdall looked. "Although he misses Asgard, he is content. Jane Foster makes him happy."

"That is indeed reassuring."

Loki turned, walking back to his horse. " _He misses Asgard."_  He pulled the reins of his steed, urging it at a maniacal pace along the Bifrost and towards the shining city. The sooner this alliance the better.

* * *

The night was dark. The odd rustle from unseen animals came floating though the air every now and again, but nothing else broke the stillness. A heavy mist hung along the earthy ground, shrouding dense forests and high mountains.

With a grinding shriek, a jet of multi-coloured light pierced through the skies, screeching towards the ground with dizzying speed, sending a hubbub of noises in its wake. Its noisy disruption was brief, and after a few long seconds, the beam retreated back into space; leaving a group of three men heaving breathlessly on the ground.

"What in Valhalla!" One of them exclaimed, picking himself up unsteadily. "Was that?"

The other two, both Asgardian guards, moaned, still on the ground. "Ambassador," a sweating one gasped, reaching across the soft grass for his golden helmet, "Heimdall did warn that it would be-"

"Yes yes, I heard him!" The ambassador flapped his hands, looking around to get his bearings. He fought the wave of nausea that crashed over him when he moved forward a few paces. All he could see was trees swathed in grey fog, several paths clearly cut through them, but nothing was familiar. The guards stood, looking about cautiously. "He also said that we'd land in clear sight of the castle! Do you see any-"

His annoyed questions were cut off by the sound of galloping hooves. The guard instantly unsheathed their swords, looking around for the horses and their riders as the noise grew in volume. A flame, and then another, and more, came flying through the darkness, outlining four figures on horseback.

The guards dropped their visors, crouching down in front of the ambassador as the horses came closer, faster than they had thought possible.

The ambassador gasped, staggering back a little as the riders reined their steeds to a halt mere inches away from where the Asgardians stood. Four arrows were drawn, pointing directly at him.

"State your purpose!" The voice was imperious.

He took a deep breath, summoning his composure. Asgard had yet to see Loki's version of punishment and he definitely didn't want to be the first example. "Peace friends. We are but three - come on behalf of the King of Asgard."

"I don't care who you are - what do you want?" None of their bows lowered.

"Only to propose a treaty with your King, Arawn." They were silent, their faces shrouded due to the long hoods they wore. The ambassador felt a chill run up his ankles. He nudged the guards imperceptibly, and they put their swords away slowly.

All of the bows lowered. "Very well."

* * *

It became clear to the ambassador why the castle was not in sight - Heimdall had left them at the bottom of the mountain upon which the main city was built, only just in sight of the tall black walls that guarded their entrance. He cursed him sullenly in his head. Damn gatekeeper.

A few olive-skinned Avalonians stopped to watch them as they passed through the city, but the streets were mostly empty, the wind constant and cold.

Avalon's castle was more of a fortress; made of black stone walls and white marble floors. It towered over them as they approached. The heavy metal gate was pulled up to allow them into a vast courtyard. The guards motioned for them to dismount, and then they were taken into a warm entrance hall.

The guards walked them to the bottom of a shallow flight of steps. "Wait here." The ambassador sighed - it was not as though he were going anywhere else. He rubbed his numb hands together, soaking in the warmth from the torches that blazed on the walls. The halls of the palace were silent.

Suddenly, the doors set above them opened, and the same guard came out. "You may enter the throne room."

"About time too," the ambassador huffed. Adjusting his wet tunic as best as he could, he climbed the steps and walked into the room.

Opposite him was a raised platform, the centrepiece an ornate wooden throne, wound through with intricate patterns of silver and gems. A heavily cushioned silver couch sat beside it, currently occupied by a woman with long red curls and slender features. The ambassador averted his eyes from the immodest cut of her sheer gown.

The throne however, was sat upon by an older man, his face worn and dark hair threaded through with grey. He had a thin silver crown set around his brow, and wore a heavy velvet robe. The ambassador bowed, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Asgardians!" The King's voice was gravelly and loud. "That would explain the ridiculous hour you visit at. It's been a long time. Two thousand years to you." He chuckled, "Has Odin finally come to beg my forgiveness?"

The ambassador bristled, slightly confused. "The Allfather is dead almost a season now. The king of Asgard is his son, Loki."

The woman on the couch had reached out a hand and was tracing the King's leg. Arawn seemed distracted by her nails on his skin. "Well, what does this King want? I haven't got all night."

"King Loki wishes to form an alliance, as our respective nations once had. He-"

He was interrupted again. "Is that letter for me?"

"Ah this, yes. From Loki himself." The King leant down as he stepped forward, taking the parchment from his hands. He broke the green wax and read it slowly. "Loki wishes to invite you to court, so that he may mend-"

"Yes, yes!" Arawn rolled the letter back up again. "I agree."

The ambassador was shocked, "So- so soon?"

"Peace you want. No harm done, eh?" Arawn rose and took the woman's hand, smiling at her. They stepped down from the dais together/

"But, your majesty! When shall we expect you?"

"A week's time!" And the King of Avalon was gone.

The ambassador stood there, lost for words. One of the guard behind him snorted. He slapped him heavily, the blow glancing off the man's golden armour. "Shut up. When is Heimdall taking us home?"

"He said he'd give us a day."

"But I'm finished now."

The guard shrugged, "Like I said; a day."

"Damn gatekeeper!"

* * *

The night passed uneventfully, but the next day the Asgardian delegation saw the familiar light of the Bifrost break through the sky. The journey back was as nauseating as before, but this time at least they landed on their feet.

Heimdall raised a brow at the ambassador's pale face. "Well?"

"You left us at the bottom of a bloody mountain!"

"I was referring to the alliance Loki seeks. But, I could hardly project you to their courtyard; they would've killed you on sight."

"Well..." The ambassador huffed, "We'll be having visitors."

"Is that so? The king will be glad to hear it." The gatekeeper inclined his head, "You'd best be on your way, Ambassador." With a metallic screech, he pulled the sword, closing the Bifrost and turned back to gaze at the worlds around him.

It was late afternoon in Asgard, although they had left Avalon when the morning was new. "They must be half a day behind us," the ambassador muttered to himself as he pulled his squat body onto a saddle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he waved his hand at the guard impatiently. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The journey to Asgard's palace took only a little while; and the ambassador found himself wishing it took longer. He could not explain what it was about their new king that unsettled him - there was just an atmosphere about him that put a man on edge.

Rubbing his hands a little nervously, he stepped into the throne room. It was a long walk from the door to the foot of the throne, and he could feel Loki's eyes on him with every step. When he reached the throne at last, he knelt. Loki's voice was silky and a little bored. "Ambassador. Back so soon?"

"Yes my liege, the Avalonian king was quick to agree to negotiations."

Loki smiled like a cat, "Really? That is good news indeed. When are we expecting them?"

"A week's time, my King." The smile faded a little. Long fingers drummed against Gungnir, resting heavily in his hand.

"Tell me, ambassador, what am I to expect?"

The ambassador rushed to assure him. "Arawn does not hold grudges against Asgard; he seemed happy to-"

"Not like  _that_. What type of king is he?"

He was lost for words. "Uh... Competent seeming my Lord. High spirited. If not a little dismissive."

Loki nodded. "I see." His eyes glinted, "You've done well Ambassador."

"Thank you, your majesty."

There was a long pause. Loki raised a brow at the man. "You can leave now."

* * *

Over the next week, Asgard was a flurry of preparations. Baking and decorating, children collecting flowers to scatter, the guards polished their armour. The palace was cleaned even more thoroughly than usual; the gold pristine and shining. Even Loki was looking forward to the coming event - for a different reason, of course.

Being king was not as exciting as he'd first thought. Yes there were politics; sometimes vicious, and matters to be discussed, but overall Asgard was at peace. He supposed the realm deserved a little peace after all the recent events. He wondered why Odin needed to sleep so much.

Loki made a point to visit Heimdall almost frequently to enquire after his brother. There were still some on other realms; Vanaheim in particular, who called for Thor to be seated upon the throne. It irked him, and made him look forward to the day this treaty was formed.

Soon that day arrived. It was warm, the air clear and crisp, and all the nobles had come to court. The palace was more full than he'd see it in the past century. Loki had noticed, with slight exasperation, that many more of the nobles were sending their unwed daughters to court these days.

"It's wonderful," Fandral had told him one day when he'd had enough of fathers advocating their children. "A little femininity about is hardly going to dull the place, is it? Don't tell me you don't indulge, those black locks of yours must be quite eye-catching."

"I do not _indulge_ ," Loki had replied frostily. Fandral had simply shrugged.

"The more the merrier," he'd stated,

Fandral was still as ridiculous as he had been; however, these days Loki had begun to find him tolerable. But he did still have to warn him before the Avalonians arrived, "If they bring women, under _no circumstances_  are you to be... yourself."

"Righto. I'll be Ulric, shall I?"

Still as ridiculous.

The throne room was full of courtiers, all waiting to see the visitors. Loki sat high on the throne, above them all, waiting as impatiently as the rest of them. A rider entered the hall, fighting his way through the throng of richly clad, murmuring nobles. He knelt at the steps, "They are here, my King."

Loki nodded. "Good, bring them in."

The room quietened as the guards began separating a path through the crowds. By the time the rider reached the doors again, the loud chatter had lowered to whisperings. The sound of footsteps came before the party appeared.

Six olive-skinned guards flanked a woman in rich clothing, and Loki glared at the Ambassador before they reached the foot of the throne.  _That was not a man._  The ambassador paled and disappeared into the crowd. He returned his focus to the party coming closer; eve aware of the whispering of the courtiers. "Your majesty may I present Andraste of Avalon, here on behalf of her father King Arawn."

The woman stepped forward, sinking into a graceful curtsy that afforded him a rather lovely view of the swell of her breasts, before raising her eyes to his. "Avalon is honoured by your invitation, King Loki." Her voice was clear and soft. "As is my father."

Loki spoke silkily, staring straight at her. "You are most welcome here. It is my greatest desire that relations between our realms will be repaired, and a stronger friendship formed. We are holding a feast tonight in honour of your arrival." He paused, eyes flickering over the silver-armoured guards. "And your father is?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Unfortunately, he's busy with matters of state. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. Chambers have been made ready for you and your entourage."

She smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, it is well appreciated."

He nodded, watching as she turned on her heel and left the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut... yet.

Andraste could feel the eyes of the lords and ladies watching her every move as she left the hall. As the doors shut gently behind her she could hear the talk resume.

A young serving girl stood waiting, her appearance pristine. She dropped into a low curtsy. "Your majesty-"

"My Lady, please." She smiled at her. "I'm not a queen yet."

"Sorry my Lady."

"No offence taken." She cast her eyes around her. Asgard's palace was gilded and golden, a show of strength. It had stone floors and the high ceilings were panelled with wood. Wide, glass-less windows allowed sunlight to illuminate the corridors.

"If you could follow me to your rooms," the girl curtsied again briefly. Leaving the guards behind, Andraste followed her through the palace to a room not far from the hall. When they reached the doors, the servant looked at the one remaining guard still with them. "Er-"

"This is my friend. She'll be staying with me."

The maid's eyes widened. " _She_?" she voiced incredulously.

Andraste frowned, her eyes meeting a pair of bright blue ones behind the silver visor. "Brigid, would you..." The maid continued staring as the guard lifted their hands and pulled off their helmet. A mane of dark blonde hair fell out, pulled back against the woman's head. She stood with a slightly hostile stare at the girl.

"I- I- I've never seen a lady guard before," she stammered in disbelief.

Andraste raised a brow. "Really?"

"Well apart from the Lady Sif, but..."

"I am not a lady," the blonde woman clarified, a little annoyed. "I'm a soldier."

Andraste suppressed a groan.  _Not this again_. "If that's all," she said quickly.

The servant nodded, "Um, yes, my Lady. I'll find a room for your... friend." She curtsied, before leaving with wide eyes.

Brigid shut the door behind her and turned to Andraste. They shared a look. " _Lady_?" Brigid repeated again, still miffed. "I'm not a lady!" She threw her gauntlets on the bed. "Honestly, do I look like a lady to you?"

Andraste laughed, pulling off her blue cloak, "Not at all Brigid." She made her way over to the large bed and settled on it, her dark hair spilling across the golden pillows. "I feel sick."

"It was that fucking portal, that's what it is." The other woman followed her and laid a hand against her forehead. "You'd better not catch anything, your father would have me crucified."

Andraste rolled her eyes, "You protect me from people, not from diseases. Besides what could I catch here?"

"Anything, this is fucking Asgard!"

She chuckled. "They're warriors, not barbarians."

Brigid's face took on a disdainful expression, "Same thing."

* * *

The doors of the feasting hall swung open to admit two women. "Look at this, fucking aristocrats everywhere."

"It is a court Brigid, what did you expect?"

"Just because I like you doesn't mean I have to like the rest of your lot. Cheaters and social climbers, I'm surprised they get anything done between plotting and scheming."

Andraste scoffed. "That's not true."

"Snobs, the lot of you."

"Brigid please." Andraste rolled her eyes, but kept a smile on her face for the Asgardian court.

Brigid dropped her voice but continued to whisper as they strolled through the long tables. "It's bad enough that I have to wear this sorry excuse for a gown tonight - I mean really, it covers everything, how boring - why is that anyway?"

"Because I need you beside me here, and to do that you have to _pretend_  to be a noble. Asgard's more formal than home." Andraste caught the scowl on the other woman's face. "What now?"

She took a deep breath. "It's fucking cold Andraste, even with all these layers. No wonder they're all draped in cloth."

Her friend snorted but a voice cut into their conversation before she could reply. "Lady Andraste." They both turned to see a stout servant standing with an important expression. He gestured with his hands to the table at the very front of the hall, facing the room. "There is a place for you at the high table."

She nodded, turning back to Brigid. "Looks like you won't be having me around anyway," Brigid said, her eyes scanning the rapidly filling seats. They landed on a group of young Asgardian warriors. "How about I go find out who the most virile men are, and report back to you later?"

Andraste laughed. "You really don't have to. Try not to over exert yourself, will you?"

"I never do." Brigid's blue eyes flickered, "Enjoy yourself. I know I will." With that, she strode off towards her targets, a sway in her hips. Andraste rolled her eyes again, following the servant's path to the high table. He ushered her to an oiled wooden seat.

"Thank you," she smiled, sitting down.

"Water, wine, or mead, milady?"

She studied the dark golden liquid curiously. Mead smelt stronger than anything she'd smelt before. "Just wine please."

As the servant filled her glass a velvety voice came from her right. "A wise choice; mead is very heavy, not to mention an acquired taste." She turned to see the King of Asgard in the seat next to her, his fingers drumming lightly against the tabletop. Had he been there when she sat down? She hadn't seen him. His thin lips quirked into a flat smile. Andraste hadn't realised how tall he was until then - he was at least a head taller than her, and she was not petite. Black locks fell to his shoulders, pitch against his pale skin.

"Lady Andraste." His eyes ran over her form. "I was expecting a king but I must admit, I was not prepared for such exquisite company."

Andraste smiled, "Your Majesty is too kind."

 _Your Majesty._ He liked that. Loki quirked a brow. "You're his daughter?"

She nodded

"No siblings?"

"Two. I have a younger brother and sister." Andraste smiled.

Loki sipped his drink lazily. "A younger brother," he mused. "Do you think it will irk you, to watch someone younger than you sit upon the throne?"

Andraste's brows rose. Her father had been right, Asgardians were presumptious. "Not at all, seeing as I am heir apparent." His eyes slid to her, muscles stilling imperceptibly. She smiled. "Inheritance in birth order you see. Our traditions are quite different."  _Our traditions aren't so primal,_  she thought with no small degree of smugness.

"Is your brother not envious?" Loki asked, wry curiosity evident in his voice.

She laughed dryly. "Taliesin is anything but envious - I don't think he'd take the throne if I handed it to him on a silver platter." The king sitting beside her was expressionless. She cleared her throat and turned a smile upon him, "Have you any siblings my Lord?"

"Yes. One." There was a strain in Loki's voice, but it was so minor she didn't catch it.

She waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. "Are they here?" She asked politely.

He smirked, "No. He er, he resides on Midgard."

"Midgard?"

"Earth," he clarified.

Andraste looked surprised. "Oh." She thanked the servant who placed a plate in front of her. "I suppose he used the... Bifrost to get there?" Her voice was tinged with discomfort.

Loki grinned. "I take it you found the journey nauseating."

She gave a short laugh. "I would say uncomfortable. Of course if we are to be allies, I must arrange for communication to be possible from both ends."

"That is recommendable."

"Hm. This treaty," she turned to fully face Loki, "what are your conditions?"

Loki smirked, "Why my Lady, you are very forward."

She gave him a playful smile, "I know what I want."

His eyes stilled on hers. "Indeed. I only ask that as allies, we would support each others'," he paused, "rightful place."

 _Odd phrasing_ , she thought silently. "Of course," Andraste replied. The conversation stopped as they both began eating - well she ate. Loki picked at his food. Conscious of the silence, Andraste asked, "How long have you been King?"

"A few weeks - the Allfather died in midwinter."

Andraste's face lost some of its polite aloofness. "I'm sorry." Her voice was so genuine that Loki was bewildered. "Where is your mother? My father said she-"

"She is dead."

The words were hollow, cold. She wondered if she'd hit a nerve. Judging from the blank look on Loki's face, it would appear so. Andraste softened her voice. "Apologies, I did not mean to pry."

He merely nodded. "So, what did your father have to say about my mother?" His fingers twitched. If it was slander he'd find an ally elsewhere.

"Only that he thought she..." Andraste hesitated warily, "Perhaps this subject is too-"

"No, please." His voice was blunt and left no room for argument. "Continue."

She tried to be as diplomatic as possible. "My father's friendship with Odin did not end amicably, as I'm sure you've gathered. The late Queen however was far more courteous, and I believe my father rather admired her."

Loki was very still for a moment, and she wondered if she'd insulted him. She felt a small knot form in her stomach - this was not how this visit was meant to go. And as Loki remained silent her worry began to increase. What if she had offended him? What if she had to return home empty handed? How would-

"Understandable." Loki spoke flatly. She relaxed imperceptibly. He turned to her with an attempted smile. "How does your father fare?"

She reached for her goblet. "Well. He's not a young man anymore; he's not as involved as he once was. He prefers his luxuries now."

"And that is the real reason he is not here." A smug look flickered across Loki's face as she paused uncomfortably.

"I have no say in what the King does or does not do. I think ruling has begun to tire him."

Loki processed this. "Will he step down from the throne?"

Andraste let out a short laugh. "Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?" she said dryly, the words coming easily from her lips. The man beside her sent her a glance, a calculating smirk curving his lips.

"You dislike your father's rule?" Loki's voice was silky.

Andraste noticing the glint in his green eyes. Was he grilling her? "Not at all, Papa is a good king."  _Papa?_  Loki questioned incredulously in his mind. "I suppose I'm just impatient."

"Aren't we all," he commented cryptically. She looked at him sideways. "Perhaps you won't have to wait long."

Her voice was sharp, "Excuse me?"

Loki turned to her slowly, finding it difficult to conceal his amusement at her demanding tone.  _She had fire_. "Hmm?" He sipped at his goblet. "As an older man now I'm sure he'll need protection for the times ahead, protection I am willing to give. We both want the best for our realms - and what better way to protect ourselves than through friendship?"

The shock that had begun to blossom on Andraste's face had faded to attentiveness. "And what does Asgard need protection from, Loki?"

The raven-haired man stiffened a little.  _A barbarian, a titan of cruelty and torture._  "It is a personal matter."

She raised a neat brow. "I cannot let this treaty go ahead without knowing what it entails."

Loki was silent for a moment. If he told her about Thanos it was likely they would rescind their offer, something he could not afford. He attempted a transparent smile before he spoke. "My brother gave up his claim to the throne - I am the rightful King of Asgard. However, if he decides to renege on his decision I would prefer support from another world that is not one of the Nine Realms."

"And due to this alliance, Avalon would support you." Andraste frowned. "How likely is the possibility of Thor returning?"

"I cannot say. Times change." He gestured towards her. "Surely there are those you would rather distance yourself from?" He looked at her questioningly. "I hear your people are not friends with the Olympians?"

Andraste rolled her eyes, "Is anyone? They've been more active in the last century than before and it's not enjoyable. But when Ares is bored..." she made a dismissive noise in her throat. Their borders had been breached more times than she could count over the years, and every time it had led to a short but gory battle. "There is a severe downside to being in such close proximity to Olympus."

"You've crossed paths I take it?" Loki seemed to find her commentary amusing.

"Unfortunately."

He grinned. "Hm." His leather-clad body leaned towards hers, almost touching. "Well, just so your father knows, if this treaty goes ahead, I will help you in any way needed against your enemies."

She flicked a long curl over her shoulder. "With such a promise, I doubt he could turn you down."

Loki's smirk was cutting. "I should hope not." He raised his wine glass in one hand, tipping it towards her. "To friendship," he said carefully.

She clinked their glasses together as the minstrels began to play their tunes, a smile dancing across her lips. "To friendship."

* * *

The halls of Asgard's palace reverberated with music and chatter, and the smell of wine hung in the air. But the further Loki walked, the more the atmosphere darkened. It only took him a few minutes, but by the time he had reached the steps that led to the prison, the sound of merriment was a distant noise in his ears.

He disguised himself as he came closer to the guards - his fitted black tunic and leather trousers now gleaming golden armour. They nodded at him as he strode through the heavy stone doors.

The cells were not as full as they had been, but neither were they sparsely filled. Barely any of the convicts looked his way as he continued through the maze-like layout. Loki's lip curled beneath the helm as he walked through the all-too-familiar paths. He detested this place; it was oppressive.

He came to a stop outside a darkened cage, which looked disused and discarded. The heavy metal armour melted, shifting back into his leather tunic and boots with a dull green glow. Stepping forward, Loki reached out, drawing his fingertips across the seemingly empty air. Under his touch, the blackness wavered, parting just enough for him to walk in.

Loki surveyed his surroundings. There were still broken pieces of furniture scattered across the cell, books lying around, and a thin smudge of blood across the white floor. He turned to the bed.

The wide bed - which his mother had so lovingly bestowed upon him - no longer held thick pillows and a velvet spread; the cushions had long been torn violently and the spread tossed to a corner of the room. In their place, was a proud, white-haired figure sitting at the edge of the mattress.

Loki studied the man's face. He seemed older again. However it was only a moment before his captive raised his one good eye to glare at him.

"Loki!" Odin's voice was still commanding. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I see you've finally awoken." Loki ignored the expression of rage on his one-time father's face. He gave a mocking smile. "I do hope you find your chamber pleasing."

"Where am I? And what is the meaning of this? Where is Thor?"

"Do you _truly_  not recognize this cell, Allfather?" His face twisted in irritation. "Of course you don't - you never once came to see what you had doomed me to, did you?"

"Where is Thor?!"

Loki folded his arms. "Not here."

Odin's weary face darkened with realisation. His voice was booming when he spoke next. "Do you mean to tell me you are sitting upon _my son's_  throne?" He pushed himself to his feet, face cold. Despite himself, Loki took a step backwards.

" _My_  throne," he snarled.

" _Where is Thor_?" The older man roared, taking heavy steps towards him. "If you've harmed-"

"You'll do what?"

Loki's voice was filled with anger and malice. He had been going to tell Odin that his beloved son had given up his title, his place, for that Midgardian; but this was even better. He let out a cruel laugh.  _Let the old fool think his only child dead._

"What can you do,  _Odin_?" The Allfather did not flinch at the title. "No one knows you live. The Nine Realms think you dead, and accept me as their rightful ruler.  _Which now I am_."

"You are nothing! Nothing but a spoiled, selfish child, denied a treat!"

"I am not a child!"

Odin scoffed before calling out. "Guards!"

Loki smirked bitterly. "No one will hear you. My magic hides you even from Heimdall."

"Then why not just kill me now?" Odin demanded, his voice stern. Loki couldn't help but stare at him in shock. Did he really think that low of him? He could see the answer written plainly on the Allfather's face.

With a strained smile he summoned his control. "Why would I do that," he said slowly, beginning to walk back towards the wall, "when I can leave you to rot. Just as you left me." His hands split the magic containing the cell. Just as Loki ducked through it, he heard Odin's voice.

"Coward."

The magic closed behind him. Loki stood still. The cell looked just as bare and abandoned as it had before. His breathing evened out after a long moment, and with difficulty he relaxed. Finally, he threw up the visage of a guard once more, making his way out of the prisons.

He had guests to attend to.

* * *

Andraste smiled at the noble who twirled her about the floor. They were certainly enthusiastic hosts, Asgardians, and her current partner was charming but not handsome enough for her to bed. Woe for him, she thought. As the instruments strummed to a finish she thanked the man, before wandering off in search of her friend.

She had just about given up, deciding Brigid was busy occupying a bed, when she heard a familiar voice. Andraste followed the sound, finding the soldier leaning against a stone pillar with a blonde man. He smiled at her as she approached, sweeping into a bow. "Lady Andraste," he acknowledged with a warm smile.

Andraste returned the expression, giving him her hand to kiss. Brigid threw her arms around her friend's shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Ann! This is Fandral-"

"-the dashing," he interjected with a wink. Andraste found herself smiling.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said in amusement. Her eyes drifted to Brigid, who was smirking into her wine. "I don't think I'm the only one who thinks so."

Fandral flicked a strand of hair from his forehead. "With all due respect, it's always a pleasure to be met by me."

She laughed. "Isn't he charming?" Brigid purred, draping a tanned hand over his shoulder.

Andraste snorted - her friend's ability to go from a fearsome warrior to a drooling maiden was truly astounding. Brigid's blue eyes rose and she cocked her head, "But where's your charmer?"

"Brigid please." A meagre chill ran down Andraste's spine. She couldn't quite place it. "I've no-"

"There he is," she was interrupted.

Andraste turned her head. Loki was striding through the crowds of courtiers, his face tight as he made his way to his seat at the high table. He sat down, his legs spread open and face pensive. She wondered why he looked so tense.

Just as she thought it, his cool green eyes landed on her. They held her stare. Or did they? Was it her imagination or did they flit along her body? She turned back to Brigid abruptly, before warmth could tickle her cheeks. Fandral barked. "Has Loki been using his Silvertongue on you?"

Her brows shot up at the nickname and his forwardness. "Silvertongue?" she repeated incredulously.

"Mm. He's very good with words, our King."

"Oh." She felt the urge to roll her eyes at herself this time. "Yes, he is."

"Some find it a little intimidating."

Andraste smiled wryly at him. "I'm cursed with nerves of steel. It takes far more than words to intimidate me." She turned towards Brigid. "I was only coming over to let you know I'm retiring for the night."

Brigid waved her glass at the brunette. "Duly noted. Goodnight Ann!"

"Goodnight," she replied with a grin. Fandral bowed again.

Andraste headed out of the hall, nodding and smiling every so often. As she made her way to the doors, someone called out a goodnight and she turned to reply. Her vision included the tall figure at the opposite end of the hall.

Realising he could see her, Andraste smiled and bowed her head in silent acknowledgement, before leaving the room. Loki nodded, his eyes still on her retreating frame.

* * *

Sunlight woke her gently, the glow getting brighter as the morning approached. Andraste rolled onto her back with a groan, stretching lazily. She sighed. A few small noises made her raise her head. An Asgardian servant was picking up a few things from the floor. "My lady," she bobbed into a curtsey, her face flushed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Andraste waved a hand and reluctantly began to clamber out of bed. She made her way over to the dressing table and began rifling through her things.

"What is it you require my lady?"

"Only a comb-" Almost instantly, the girl handed her a long-toothed golden comb. She accepted it in surprise, "Thank you." The servant nodded, turning and beginning to pull out pieces of clothing to lay out. "Wait. Don't I know you?"

The girl paused, turning with a purple dress in her hands. "I escorted you and Lady Brigid to your chambers my lady."

"I remember. What is your name?"

She blinked. "My- my name?"

"Yes. " When the girl still did not reply, she added groggily, "You do have one, don't you?"

"Yes my lady. Er, Inga, my lady."

"Good morning Inga." She gave her a smile. Just as Inga began to smile back the door flew open with a bang, announcing the arrival of a familiar blonde head. The girl gasped and hurried back to her tasks.

"Doesn't this place have any damn potions? My head is pounding!"

Andraste grinned at her in the mirror as she began to pull the comb through her hair, the gold glinting among the warm brown strands. "Good morning Brigid."

"Nothing good about it." Her blue eyes were heavy, and her skin had a pale sheen. "I don't know what they put in mead but I wish they wouldn't. It- Ow!" She glared at Inga, who had accidentally knocked into her on her way past. The servant muttered a hasty apology before leaving, her arms full of laundry. Brigid pressed her fingers to her head. "And now I feel worse, well this is wonderful!" She swept over to the newly-made bed and threw herself down on it with a wince.

"Didn't you bring anything with you?"

"No! I didn't plan to get in this state."

Andraste sent her a look over her shoulder. "Maybe Fandral can give you something."

Her friend smiled. "Oh he's given me plenty, believe me."

" _Brigid_."

"You said it!"

"Is he any good?" Andraste squinted as she began lining her eyes heavily. "What's he like?" They had been friends since childhood, and talking to one another of their bedmates was a common topic between them.

Brigid adjusted her bodice with a smirk, "Surprisingly gentlemanly. He's invited me to watch him practice today."

Andraste began pulling off her nightdress and reached for her gown. "Are you going?"

"Looking like this? No thank you. I'm staying with you."

"Fine." Andraste gave her a sly look, "You do realise that breakfast is served in the feasting hall, with the rest of court?"

"What?"

"And tonight the festivities are continuing. Imagine all that noise, all that music and dancing..." Her friend winced, rubbing her temples. Andraste held out her hand for Brigid to grab, and pulled her to her feet. "It won't be so awful," she reckoned when the other began to moan, "we'll go get something to eat and then look around."

They left the room, wandering through the stone corridors until they reached the hall. It wasn't even half as full as it had been the night before, Andraste noted. She nodded to her own small group of guards, who were sitting down eating. She sat at one of the long benches and filled her plate with the food that was being carried out from the kitchens.

She noticed her friend picking at her breakfast miserably. Andraste held out a piece of sweet-smelling fruit with a smirk. "You should really try this Brigid; it's delicious." Brigid sent her a glare.

"My lady," a guard, dressed in the silver and blue armour of Avalon, stood to attention. "With your leave, may we be excused to train?"

Andraste nodded. "Your services aren't needed, you can all be excused till evening - but take care not to fence _too_  hard with the Asgardians. We're here to make friends," she gave him a pointed stare, "and I know how roughly some of you like to play."

The guard bowed, a smile pulling at his lips. "As you wish, my lady."

Brigid rolled her eyes as he walked away. "All day off? You're too easy on them," she remarked.

"We're on a different world, Brigid - I don't see any harm in letting my staff enjoy themselves. You don't win people's loyalty through callousness." She continued to eat.

"I wonder if the Asgardian King would agree," Brigid mused.

Andraste frowned absently. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he seems a little... cold, don't you think? Charming, and attractive to be sure, but cold."

"I hadn't noticed."

Brigid's eyes gleamed cheekily, "That he's cold? Because I'm sure you've noticed he's attractive."

Andraste's expression didn't change. "He's the King of Asgard, that is all," she stated.

"Doesn't mean he doesn't have a nice sized co-"

"Shh!" A few of the nearby courtiers were glancing at them. Andraste sighed. "Will you keep your voice down?"

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Fine. When are you seeing him again, anyway?"

"We have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon. I want to start writing out the treaty soon."

"How long will it take?"

"Not too long, hopefully." Brigid sighed. Andraste couldn't help but feel the same. She already missed Avalon's warmth and the comfort of her friends and family. She stood from the table and dusted down her gown. "Come on, let's go take a look around."

* * *

Loki stared out at the palace gardens from his seat on the window sill, watching various citizens as they strolled through the grounds. A book hung limply from his hands. He was sitting in the royal library, his only company silence. He supposed that was why he liked it - it was a room of shadows and knowledge, a far cry from the boisterous Asgardian warrior lifestyle. It was the room he had first practiced magic with his mother, had first had something that was his alone.

Dark thoughts tugged at the edge of his mind. Thanos must have heard of his ascent to the throne by now. Being king of nine worlds would afford him some degree of security; but the red-skinned fiend would not give up so easily he knew. He would find a way to him - through this universe or the next.

Loki's hands tightened.  _I will be secure with this alliance_ , he thought. Even Thanos, with his thirst for vengeance, would not be so foolish as to try to come for him when other worlds were on his side.  _He would be even less inclined if Thor were here._  Loki immediately banished that thought. The sound of footsteps interrupted his musings. He immediately cast a disillusionment over himself as the door opened, and returned to his book.

He could hear a pair of feminine voices; one more harsh than the other. He frowned a little as they came closer, interrupting his peace.

"...this! Moving pictures!"

"Let me see?" There was a pause and fluttering sounds of flickering pages. "That is extraordinary." A rustling of skirts and then a scraping as chairs were pulled out.

After a pause, one of the voices whined. "You're not going to start reading that, are you?"

"What do you propose I do with a book, Brigid?"

"Oh come on Ann, don't be so boring!"

"You're just jealous because I  _can_ read."

Brigid snorted. "I can read, I just don't like it." Andraste ignored her as she wandered over to the window, where Loki was sitting unseen. He rolled his eyes as a long strand of blonde hair fell into his line of vision, leaning back so that she would not notice his presence. Being clad in invisibility had its faults. Brigid squinted through the glass. "Is that...?" Her eyes lit up, "Andraste I'm going to watch the guards practice."

"Don't you mean you're going to watch  _Fandral_  practice?"

Brigid looked over her shoulder at her friend. Andraste made a face at her. Loki rolled his eyes again.  _Damn it Fandral._ The blonde sighed impatiently. "Aren't you coming?"

"To watch you dissolve into a pool of arousal? I'd rather not." She frowned. "I thought you never bedded the same person twice?"

"Exceptions can be made." Brigid gave a seductive smile, "You could join us?"

"Not today."

"If you say so." She straightened. "Enjoy your book."

"I will. Be sure not to keel over won't you?" The woman's laughter echoed as she left the room. Andraste shook her head, turning the page. The colour of the binding caught Loki's eye. Was that one of his? He adjusted his position on the sill and craned to see what it was she was reading.  _ASGARD: Histories and Origins of the Realm Eternal._

Andraste leaned back and settled comfortably, her eyes scanning the pages greedily. Each page was carefully inscripted, illustrated with beautiful sketches that moved even as she watched them. Her fingertip traced the shimmering movements of a drawing of a great tree. "Yggdrasil," she read, brows creasing.

"The world tree." A voice spoke from above her shoulder.

She looked up with a start. "Your majesty!"

Loki motioned for her to stay sitting, "Just Loki. We are friends after all." He came around to the chair opposite her, but only leaned against it. "Interesting book you're reading."

"Yes." She smiled politely. "I hope you don't mind..."

"It's of no concern to me, do as you will."

This time her smile was genuine. "Thank you. I was wondering..." He raised his brows. Her eyes fell to the book in her hands, "How is it that the drawings move?"

Loki shrugged. "Magic."

The word rang in her ears. "Magic?" she asked. Suddenly the book seemed far more impressive.

"Do you not have magic in Avalon?"

"Well yes, but people do not commonly wield it."

Loki frowned. "Are there no sorcerers on Avalon?"

Andraste shrugged. "There are those who dabble in potions and premonitions. But the world is vast, and magic is no longer a common tool. "

 _Vast? How interesting_. "What do you mean by vast?" he inquired, leaning forward. His mind started churning; he'd never actually considered the size of other planets.

She replied with a touch of arrogance, "Well we've got records going back over fifty millennia and there are still parts of Avalon yet to be explored, so I leave it to your imagination."

"All that time and you don't use magic?" he asked condescendingly. "I had heard that Avalon was the realm of witchcraft."

She frowned at him. "Once. And it led to dark days for our people."

 _Dark days. She sounded like a travelling minstrel._ "Like what?"

"Civil war, curses," her voice dropped, "sacrifices."

"Sacrifices?" Loki repeated gleefully, "Do go on."

Andraste shifted. "I'd really rather not. It's not something we are proud of."

He shrugged. A crease appeared on his brow. "So how did you quash it?" Her eyes flickered uncomfortably. Loki leaned forward. "Allow me to guess - you destroyed those who used magic, driving them into seclusion."

"As I said, it's not something we are proud of."

"I should think not." He drummed his fingers on the table, "Mass executions, slaughter..." he whistled, "that is a sordid past indeed."

"Not my past," Andraste said flippantly.

"But it was  _your_  ancestors."

"And you would blame children for the sins of their fathers? I find that a little ignorant."

Loki's brows rose. "Do you?" He pushed back the chair, standing abruptly and leaning against the window, one leg crossed over the other as he stared out. "Did you know all of Asgard is built upon magic?"

"I did."

He looked over his shoulder at her innocently, "I do hope you don't intend to slaughter us too."

Andraste stared at him. "Of course not!" Suddenly, she became aware of the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You find this amusing don't you?"

Loki turned to face her. "Perhaps. Although I am curious, how will your realm connect to Asgard? From your side?"

The dark-haired woman hesitated. She had already said too much. "I'm afraid that is yet to be decided," she replied airily. Loki's green eyes pierced hers. His lips quirked.

"I'm sure," he said. Andraste blinked.  _He knows I lie,_  she thought to herself, keeping her face tranquil.

"Rest assured, our method will be more refined than the Bifrost." Her tone was a little pointed.

He let out a low chuckle. "I find that the more one uses it, the more accustomed you become. It's therefore easier to, shall we say, keep your balance."

Her brows shot up at his insinuation. "I did not fall," she corrected him.

"Of course not."

"I didn't."

Loki gestured widely with his hands. "I never said that you did."

"Well... good," Andraste settled back, a little flustered. The Asgardian had a lazy grin stretching across his face, as though he were proud of provoking her. She let out a slight breath. Andraste knew she should keep her focus on the king opposite her, but her eyes kept straying to the book she still held, and the magic within. Loki's smooth voice broke through her fascination.

"I noticed you met my friend Fandral last night."

"I did," she smiled, "he is quite a charmer."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I believe your friend is well-acquainted with him." He'd had to listen to the idiot bragging about all morning.

Andraste smirked, still looking at the book. "With certain parts of him," she said slyly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. After a moment of silence she began to laugh. He sent her an unimpressed glance. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to stifle her giggling. "You just look so uncomfortable."

"I'm so happy to be a source of amusement for you." There was a prickle to his words.

Andraste shook her head, still smiling. "I meant no offence."

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. "I would advise your friend to not become too attached," he said in a voice laced with false concern. "Fandral is not known for constancy."

"I assure you Brigid is rarely satisfied with one flavour."

His expression showed no enthusiasm. "I thought women looked for depth in these sort of things."

"Not Avalonian women."

"Really." He didn't sound particularly interested.

"Well of course." Andraste shrugged daintily. "The act is only an exercise after all."

Loki's face was now the picture of contained shock. "That's a very liberal view," he stated. He could not imagine a noble Asgardian woman expressing the same.

"Not really. After all, who wants an inexperienced lover?" Andraste's lip curled. "It's common sense - the more experience you have the better match you'll be. If you have none... that's just insulting."

"Insulting?" he repeated incredulously.

She frowned. "Evidently. Who wants to marry someone who nobody wants? You gain nothing."

Loki had to consciously snap his mouth shut. "I see. Although I think our idea of gain is a little different." When he thought of gain, he thought of power.  _Such as he held now, and that he would, hopefully, strengthen._  "I take it your world does not place a high value upon chastity," he stated disdainfully.

There was a moment of silence. Andraste's brow creased. "I have... never heard of chastity, I'm afraid," her tone was bewildered.

Loki was now quite sure his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. "Never?"

"No." She eyed him curiously, "Is it important?"

He found a morbid amusement in the fact that he of all people, was talking about such virtues. What did he know of chasteness - he was a prince, the women who had came to his bed sought favour and advantage. Not that Loki had often accepted their advances - he had discovered himself to be quite picky as he'd matured. "I suppose it depends on who it applies to. It is somewhat desirable to be... pure, for those of noble birth."

Andraste scoffed. "I admit some of your customs do confuse me."

Loki's smile was condescending, "I can see that."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of obnoxious jeering and clashing metal from outside. Andraste frowned a little, but quickly masked it with a serene smile. "If you'll excuse me." She rose from her seat and made her way out unhurriedly. It wasn't long before Loki heard her voice faintly from the window. "What is this?"

Curious, he leaned forward to watch the scene unfold. Three soldiers in silver armour with blue sashes stood, each sporting different injuries, looking somewhat bashful. "... entire city can hear you. Be a little more considerate, this is not a training ground nor a battlefield." Andraste rolled her eyes. "None of you are to touch your swords for the rest of the day."

One of the soldiers spoke up indignantly, "But my lady-"

She sent him an unimpressed glance. "Do you have something to add to that?"

He deflated a little, although he still looked unhappy. "Nothing. As you wish." At her dismissal, they turned and began making their way out of the gardens. Andraste sighed before heading back inside the palace. She still had time to explore before she had duties to fulfill.

* * *

Two guards held the doors open for her as Andraste entered the council chamber. A man with an impressive beard greeted her. "My Lady!" He swept into an elaborate bow and she smiled. "There is a seat for you here." He gestured to a chair at one end of the table, facing what was evidently Loki's ornate wooden seat. As she thanked him the doors swung open to admit another.

Andraste's brow creased in confusion. "What are you doing here? I did not summon you."

Brigid, wearing her formal armour again, adjusted it lovingly as she took up her stance a respectful distance from Andraste's seat. "It is actually my duty to be at your side y'know."

"But you hate meetings. You always wait outside."

Her friend merely shrugged. Before she could question her further, there were a few exclamations from around the table and she looked up to find Loki had appeared in the doorway. He took his seat with languid grace.

"Gentlemen." He nodded at Andraste, "Ladies." The expression on his porcelain face twitched momentarily and Andraste wondered what face Brigid had pulled. She didn't dare to look behind her.

Loki glanced down at the documents in front of him, "Now, this is a meeting of some importance, as you all know-" He stopped abruptly, his green eyes resting on the empty chair on his right. Everyone shifted as his silence continued. After a long pause Loki spoke. "Where is-"

The doors burst open. "Excuse me fellows! And ladies today it would seem!"

Loki rolled his eyes so hard that Andraste fleetingly wondered if they were going to fall out of his head. "Fandral. This is an important meeting."

Fandral bowed before sitting. "That it is, my King, hence my rush to be here." He turned to the rest of the table, "Look at my cheeks! They're as rosy as a maiden's!" There was some chuckling from a few brave members of the council and disapproving sighs from the rest. Loki exhaled as though he were dying. The blonde man turned back to Loki, "But my sincere apologies Sire, I fully intended to be on time."

Loki ignored him. "Let us proceed. First, any matters to be brought to my attention?" As he began to converse with one advisor, Andraste noticed Fandral look towards her. She gave him a small smile which he returned before locking eyes with Brigid. Andraste turned her head towards her friend. When she looked back, Loki had noticed the brief exchange too. His green eyes met hers for a mere second before he returned to his discussion.

Loki was quickly done with the man's enquiry. He pressed on. Every step towards this alliance was one closer to safety. "Now. This agreement we are all in favour of?" The rest of the table nodded. "There must be terms, assurances from both sides." He addressed Andraste, "What can Avalon offer us?"

She straightened. "This alliance would mean a friendship between our worlds, one that once flourished as some of you may remember. A-"

"I remember King Arawn storming out of here," one elderly councillor interrupted her loudly, "and declaring for all to hear that good King Odin was a brute! A slight which he never apologised for!" There were mutters from around the table and Andraste's face hardened a little. Loki's eyes slid between them.

"Forgive me, my lord," her voice was soft. "But the past is the past - it cannot be undone. However with the passing of this treaty we can repair the mistakes made, and once again be the very best of friends." She gave him a dazzling smile, "Do you not agree?"

The man scoffed. "What good are old and tired friends?" Loki narrowed his eyes at him from his end of table. Was the fool trying to sabotage him?

Andraste's smile slowly dropped. "Old and tired my father may be, but he is still the king - and I will suffer no slight against my family." She took a breath. "And of course you have a new king," she looked towards Loki, "y _ou_  do not mind the bad blood between our parents, do you?"

He stared at her, a slight smirk toying with the edge of his mouth and then shook his head. "Not at all. As you so eloquently put it, the past is the past," he turned hard eyes on the councillor, "and things are different now." The silence in the chamber continued for an uncomfortably long time.

Another man cleared his throat, somewhat self-consciously. "My lady, how many soldiers can we expect from Avalon? Enough to restore a world to their natural state?"

Loki stiffened imperceptibly.  _What did the man mean? Did he want to use their army to depose him? There were many Asgardians still loyal to his brother, was he one of them? Or was it simply a harmless question?_ But he'd have to find some way to ensure that Andraste put forward what was best for him. Not for anyone else. Loki shook himself out of his thoughts, focusing on the conversation.

"... shall we say, fifty thousand soldiers? It will depend on the situation."

The councillor's voice was high. "That's a large army."

"Yet quantity does not necessarily mean quality,"Loki spoke, his fingertips rubbing together,

Brigid rocked on her heels, keeping her eyes averted from the Asgardian King. Andraste could feel the building annoyance radiating from her. She smiled, trying to mask her own aggravation. "I assure you, all soldiers are trained in various methods of warfare. Hand-to-hand combat, archery, cavalry-"

"But not magic." Loki commented.

Andraste was momentarily lost for words. "My people have little use for magic - soldiers even less." Loki frowned. He could hear some whispering from the council.

"But surely, you could further the development of your world through magic?" he pushed.

 _What is this man's fascination with sorcery?_ Andraste spoke considerately, "You're right. But if we open Avalon to sorcery as it was before, by default we would also be inviting other worlds to use magic against us. As it stands - they cannot." There was an underlying tone of smugness to her last words.

Loki looked at her hard. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly. He had an uneasy feeling about this.

"The very foundations of our cities and dwellings have ancient properties; properties that strip all magic from anything and anyone." His eyes darkened. "Sorcery cannot exist within our walls. Therefore, if anybody tries to attack us their technology would fail and their magic rendered non-existent - they are left with only their most basic forms of defence."

Fandral spoke up. "But that is magic in itself!"

"Indeed."

Loki leaned back in his chair slowly. "Fighting magic with magic," he stated with calculated indifference. She nodded. "Ingenious."

"Yes, that's why we do it," she replied coolly. He smirked and made an expression of acknowledgement, the gears in his head already turning.

"But will your army be able to stand against superior technology?" Fandral asked, his brow knitted. "How do you go to war against other worlds without the same level of weaponry?"

Andraste laughed a little. "The Olympians are hardly unpredictable enemies - they are brutes that rely on nothing but force."

Loki's voice was sleek. "And what do you rely on? Tactics and strategies?"

"Of course. " A slight smile pulled the corner of Andraste's mouth. "I assure you all, we Avalonians always know what to expect. We are never unprepared." She leaned back, holding her silence on the matter.  _These Asgardians might be clever, but they will not prise all the secrets of my world from me._

* * *

"Like this?"

Andraste raised the glass to her lips. She smiled at the man kneeling between her legs. "Just like that." Her head fell back in a breathy moan as he leaned forward, planting his hands on her thighs, his mouth doing pleasant things. " _Yes-_ "

A knock sounded at the door. She let out an aggravated sigh, gesturing for him to leave. He slipped his shirt and silver armour back on over his olive skin and bowed respectfully before turning and walking over to the door. He opened it, standing back to let a squat manservant holding a rolled up letter in his pudgy fist enter the room.

Andraste crossed her legs, sitting straight on the edge of the bed. "Thank you," she said, taking the note from him. He didn't answer, but she saw his lip curl as he nodded and scurried away.

"Shall I leave, my Lady?"

She sighed again, reaching back to twist her hair into a thick braid. "It looks like you have to. "

"Good day, my Lady."

Andraste replied absently, breaking the seal on the letter. As she was unrolling it the sounds of another pair of footsteps came along the corridor. Brigid poked her head through the ajar door, "I thought you were busy?"

"I was," Andraste huffed, "there's absolutely no privacy here at all."

"There's nothing here," Brigid reiterated. She frowned. "Did something happen? I saw a servant leaving, he looked quite perturbed."

"I don't think he approved of my clothing."

The blond snorted, "They think a lot of themselves, don't they? I don't think Asgardians approve of flesh. The men cover their entire chest, it's such a disappointment."

"Well, it's cold here."

"Not  _that_  cold." Already bored, Brigid sat next to her on the bed, "Who's that from?" she asked curiously.

The corners of Andraste's lips turned up in a smile. "My brother, he's filling me in on all the gossip I've missed." Her brow creased. "Apparently Father has given  _that woman_ her own rooms..." her tone raised a little, "in the royal apartments."

"What?" Brigid leaned over her shoulder, "But that's reserved for your family alone!" Andraste's lips pressed together harshly. Her friend quickly added, "But that does mean you have more chance to keep an eye on her. Who knows, perhaps one of your powders may find a way into Maeve's drink-"

Andraste stood, "I don't like the woman, that doesn't mean I want her dead."

Brigid leaned back, cracking her neck. "All I'm saying is that there are advantages to this situation. Why don't you invite your mother to court?"

Andraste laughed, tucking the letter away. "Mother will never come to court while she's there; she can barely stand my father, let alone his mistress. Not to mention she has a tendency to overreact when she thinks our family's being threatened."

" _Are_  you being threatened?"

"By Maeve?" She scoffed. "Hardly. She's a cheap thrill, my father will tire of her soon."  _Even if he hasn't tired of her in almost a decade_ , the thought nagged at the edges of her mind. Andraste cleared her throat. "Anyway, even with my father's favour, what can she do, really? My father is married and I am heir apparent, there is no changing that."  _And father wouldn't do that. Not to me._ "She doesn't hold any power, not really. Just a greedy woman enjoying her time of plenty."

"Your father's very fond of her," Brigid remarked.

Andraste made a noncommittal noise. "We'll see."

* * *

Loki paced. The prisons echoed with the muffled voices of the inmates, but he paid them no heed.  _Do it,_  he urged himself, his back stiff and hairs on end,  _do it now and be done with him._ He glanced at the empty cell behind him, his mind heavy knowing who still lived behind the illusion.

Perhaps Thanos would reprieve him for failing on Midgard if he delivered the All-father's head. It would certainly be a weight off his mind.  _I could put it on a golden platter,_ Loki mused darkly. But his hands were slow to the task, and by the time he had drawn his dagger, his feet had faltered outside the cell.

Why? Why did he yet falter?  _Perhaps my hate needs a little vibrancy._  Yes that was it - it would be an easy thing to kill Odin in the midst of a heated row. But as he stepped towards his target, a rough voice shouted.

"Oi! You there! Get back to your post!"

Loki's hands tightened and he turned to face the older guard who was glowering at him. Who did the man think he was to speak to his King like that? Then he remembered - he wore a different visage at that moment.

Swallowing his ire, he jerked his head and set off down the path, only letting go of the illusion once he was out of sight.

Standing in the shadow of Asgard's dark walls, Loki gritted his teeth in frustration. His chest heaved with the effort to calm himself. In the distance the voices of servants reached his ears. "Quickly now! The feast is about to begin!"

He growled. He tired of playing the accommodating host, especially at this very moment. He had better things to do. But the threat of Thanos hung over his head like an axe - and one he would be glad to be rid of. That thought gave him motivation to make his way to the hall, ready for another night of mindless celebration.

Unwilling to be late, Loki began to stride back into the lively parts of the palace - so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the person also rushing into the hall until their steps collided.

" _Idi_ -" His vicious snarl stopped abruptly as he recognised the woman who'd impeded him. Andraste looked a bit taken aback, whether from his tone or from him simply being there he couldn't tell. Loki softened his voice to a civil tone, "Lady Andraste, you quite slipped my notice."

"And you mine," she replied, although her eyes seemed startled. "Forgive me, I was not paying attention."

"Something vexes you?" he asked as they continued through the corridor, not really caring.

"Less of a something and more of a someone," Andraste said.

"And who would that be?"

She huffed. "Somebody not worth my time." That made Loki chuckle sardonically. Andraste looked at him, suddenly aware of how negative she sounded. She changed her tone to a more pleasant one, "And what vexes you, my Lord?"

Loki smiled. "Oh I'm not vexed."

"Really? You looked like you were ready to skin someone."

 _If only you knew._ Loki wrinkled his nose, "Skinning isn't my forte - stabbing, on the other hand..." He shot her a sideways glance. To her credit, Andraste didn't seem affected by his statement.

On the contrary, she laughed and asked him, "Who were you thinking to stab?"

He tensed a little, wary of giving away too much. That could not be tolerated. "An old... acquaintance." The word left his thin lips dripping with venom. Loki quickly changed the subject. "What's that?" he asked, noting the letter folded in her hand.

"To my brother," she told him, "we like to stay in contact."

 _Ugh._ "You dislike Asgard."

Andraste was quick to smooth the conversation over. "Not at all, it's just different."

He sent her a look through hooded eyes, "Different how?"

"Very."

Discreetly, Loki rolled his eyes. "Well I hope you've been entertained," he said bluntly as they entered the hall together.

"Mh hm," Andraste scoured the crowd, "I hope you don't mind, but I need to-"

"Go then." Already predicting her request to socialise elsewhere, Loki curtly dismissed her before striding off, his sour mood making him feel a twinge of annoyance. If his company was not fulfilling enough so be it, she could do without. Reaching his chair, he sat down in it, curling his fingers around the arms. He could see the group of artisans at the opposite end of the hall scurrying all over a grand stage, adding finishing touches of seidhr behind the curtains.

"Majesty," the nervous voice of his ambassador sounded from behind him and the man stepped out to bow at his feet. Loki raised his brows at him. He cleared his throat. "I have endeavoured to find out more about the Avalonians as you requested of me several days ago-"

"And?" Loki interrupted him.

"I," the man was sweating profusely, "I have spoken to the Lady's guards and to the serving girl who attends her, but she could not tell me anything, nor would the guards reveal anything."

His king snarled. "You are aware," Loki hissed, black hair falling over his shoulders, "that you have not been at all useful to me since I took the throne?"

"Wait! I did- I did find out one thing!" The man mopped his brow. "Lady Andraste is very close to her father and extremely influential in matters of state; and not only that, but she is to be crowned Queen when he dies, which apparently won't be very long. If you are to gain Avalon's absolute loyalty it will be through her. However," he edged closer, "I have heard whispers that Arawn has taken a lover, and she too holds much power."

Loki's blood gradually stopped bubbling. "Finally a semblance of information," he sighed as he reached for a cup of water.

"I hope you don't mind me asking my King, but why the interest?"

Loki took a deep breath. _Fools, fools and knaves everywhere._ "Because ambassador, if Asgard is to remain strong we must know others' weaknesses."  _And exploit them._ "What are they performing?" he asked, nodding at the stage.

"The tale of Haraldr!" The ambassador told him enthusiastically.

"Wonderful," Loki said flatly. "Leave."

Andraste thanked the man who was leaving the hall to deliver her letter. She sighed and looked about her; the room was full to the brim, absolutely milling with people laughing and eating. "Excuse me," she muttered, pushing her way through the throng.

"What took you so long?" Brigid questioned as she finally reached her, moving up on the bench to make room for her. "I was in half a mind to go find you myself."

"I was writing to Tal." Andraste sighed.  _Oh good, wine_. She poured herself a goblet and began drinking greedily, soon refilling her cup. "There's no dancing," she noted dismally, "nor any music."

"That's because there's a play," Brigid told her exasperatedly. "Did you not see the stage? Big, made of wood-"

Andraste elbowed her with a huff, "Don't be an ass."

"Me? Well! I am hurt!" The blonde laughed. "You must be very tired to use such language, _my lady_." Andraste groaned. "Anyway, I think you're supposed to sit with him," Brigid nodded to Loki's table; where he sat emotionless. "Happy man, isn't he?"

"I think I offended him," she groaned again.

"Really? You're such a bad person Ann, how will you ever live with yourself?"

In no mood for her lively humour, Andraste pushed herself from the bench with a huff, topping up her wine before leaving. Once more navigating her way through the hall, the lights began to dim just as she reached the upper table. "Loki," she said as she sat down next to him. He turned his head. "I hope I didn't cause any offence earlier-"

"Not at all."

Her lips tightened as she bit back a retort. Luckily, the need for conversation was discarded as music began and actors entered the stage.

"Listen well, audience! And hear the old tale of good Haraldr, the valiant! The brave! Watch as he battles giants and beasts, and sacrifices all to prove his worth, not just as a man, but as an Asgardian!" Andraste smiled dryly at the resounding cheers that rose from the crowd at the last statement.  _Think a lot of themselves indeed._

Loki sank back into his chair, face blank as the play began. The tale of Haraldr was one Frigga had often recited to her children long ago, although more for Thor's pleasure than his own. Haraldr's tale was that of selflessness, of  _worth;_ the man who had risen from nothing in a time of need and fought his way to the top for the sake of Asgard. Loki ground his jaw. Once he had admired all the tale stood for. No longer.

The play was long and full of activity which kept the audience's focus riveted on the stage. As it progressed, the protagonist slew each adversity after another, often narrowly missing fatality and losing loved ones in the process, but surviving the odds. The fighting was brutal and speeches were glorifying. However, just as it seemed that Haraldr would overcome all odds, as he led the charge into battle against one of Asgard's ancient enemies, he was struck down.

Andraste's mouth fell open as the hero lay dying onstage after his final victory, his last words those of nobility and honour. As the curtains closed, the hall filled with thunderous and undying applause, men yelling and clapping each other on the back and women smiling and clapping. "He... dies," she said, a little disappointed, clapping her hands shallowly as the actors bowed to Loki before proceeding offstage.

"Yes. For the _glory_  of Asgard." Loki drawled.

"Oh."She cast her eyes towards Brigid, who was whispering to one of her soldiers with a little disconcert as he nodded on confusion.

"Do you not find his end truly touching?" Loki inquired, noticing the looks passed between his Avalonian guests.

"Touching certainly," Andraste replied quickly, trying to distract his attention from her obvious condescension.

Loki's face contorted in a knowing expression. "But?"

She ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. "It's just that I think that dying after enduring so much is a little anticlimactic."

He turned to face her fully, malicious curiousity stirred by her discomfort. "Really? What ending would you find more satisfactory? He died as a warrior, honourably."

Andraste took a breath discreetly, her heart thudding uncomfortably at his sharp tone. She almost felt as though she were being hounded by a tutor. "Honour is certainly a virtuous trait - but not one worth dying for. It's not very clever, is it? For example, had Haraldr used a more subtle approach to the final battle he may have succeeded and lived, which is surely more beneficial..." She trailed off, conscious of the fact she was babbling under his stare. _  
_

"You think Haraldr stupid," Loki stated. His cheeks lifted in dry glee. "Do you think all Asgardians stupid, Lady Andraste?"

"What? No! Not at all, I simply-"

"Nobility and honour are the lessons taught to the children of Asgard, it is what fuels our men and future soldiers. Do you think that's foolish?"

To her horror, Andraste felt her cheeks heat up and she was sure they were tinged red. She hadn't blushed in an age. "I-" she took another breath, "I think that being clever is as important as being brave."

The expression of the man in the chair beside her did not change. White teeth flashed from between pale pink lips. "I agree with you," he said at last.

Relief and then annoyed confusion flashed across Andraste's face and he smirked. "Have I irritated you my lady?"

Within moments the annoyance was gone, her face once more airily placid. "No."

"A pity." Out of the corner of his eye, he was sure she sent him a frustrated glare. He smiled.

Andraste's attention was diverted from dwelling on the perplexity of the King of Asgard by the soldier striding up to them. He stopped just shy of the table and knelt respectfully. "My brother replied already?" Andraste said in surprise. "It's barely been an evening."

"This letter is from His Majesty, your father."

Loki turned at that, paying close attention to the paper that she leaned forward to accept and waited for her to break the wax and glance at it. She did not.

"Do you wish for me to come to your bed tonight, my lady?"

The man had spoken neither quietly nor loudly, and a slight stir went through the crowd nearby, those who had heard his words staring in shock. Loki himself found it hard to believe that he would speak of such things so indiscreetly. Unbidden images of naked, entwined bodies writhing in delicate patterns flashed through his mind.

However, Andraste only shook her head. "No thank you. If I desire you again I shall send for you."

He nodded, "As you wish my Lady," and left, ignoring the whispers that followed him.

She barely spared him another glance as he left, smoothing over the letter in her hands. Loki spoke casually, "Your father must be very intent on you reading that letter if he wrote it with such haste."  _Do I have my treaty? Do I have your armies?_

Andraste only politely murmured her agreement, beckoning her blonde protector over to her. A line creased Loki's pale brow as she handed her the letter. "To my room." Brigid nodded and left, letter in hand.

Loki exhaled quietly. "You trust a servant with something so valuable?"

"Brigid is more than a subject; she is my friend, and a true one. Of course that doesn't mean I trust  _all_  my friends." Here eyes glance sideways.

His lips parted and more than one reply whirred through his mind. Loki settled on an amused smile. "How very precocious of you."

"It is rather isn't it?" she said mildly, but his eyes were on the blonde woman disappearing through the door. Loki stood.

"Enjoy your evening, Lady Andraste." He caught the hand dangling from the arm of her chair and swept his lips across it. Her grey eyes widened a little, but she showed no other sign of surprise. With that Loki turned and left the hall, shadowing Brigid's footsteps.

He had followed her almost to the door of Andraste's chamber when she paused suddenly, her shoulders tense. He stepped back into an alcove and remained still as she continued. Loki rubbed his fingers against his palms. It would look rightly suspicious if the King of Asgard was seen entering - or loitering around - his guests chambers.

He grinned.

A moment and a subdued green flicker later, a petite serving girl with red hair stood in his place. Loki took a chance to run his hands over his new-found curves before walking up to the chamber door and entering it.

Brigid was already paying attention to the door as it opened, frozen in the business of shutting the letter away in an ornate wooden box. When she saw who it was she rolled her eyes. "It's you." She closed the lid of the box, the girl's eyes watching the movement. "What do you want?"

"I'm to ready the chamber for bed." Oh. He didn't quite like the pitch of his new voice.

Brigid shrugged and moved past him."Whatever." As soon as the door clicked into place behind her, Loki went over to the box and took out the letter. Reaching beneath the illusion, he pulled his gold-hilted dagger from his hip and slid the blade beneath the wax.

Unfolding it the paper, he read it quickly.  _My darling daughter.._ _._

What an unnervingly soft start.

_Recent events have led me to prompt you to make the best of this visit. Your brother has had another encounter with Ares. Fear not my dear, he is unscathed, but I am now firmly resolved to befriend Asgard and let it be known they stand with us, as such actions will hopefully cease these childish conflicts. Make it clear that we will help Loki if he will help us. I leave this task in your capable hands, daughter mine._

A smile curved across the lips of the illusion, and had Loki begun to fold the letter in the servant girl's hands when a voice echoed through the corridor outside. He froze. Straining his hearing, he picked up on a familiar tone.

Hurriedly, he put the letter back inside the box and flicked the catches on the outside. He stepped away just as the door opened. "Inga!" Andraste sounded startled. "What are you doing here?"

 _That was his name? Inga?_ "Readying your chambers for bed." The servant moved towards the door, "I'm just done."

Just as Loki closed a hand around the door handle, Andraste called. "A moment please, I need you to help me undress before you go." She beckoned the servant over and turned around. "Unlace me and pass me my nightgown."

"Unlace you?"

"My dress." Andraste sent her a confused glance over her shoulder. Loki could have slapped himself for his tone of surprise. He had forgotten who he was for a moment.

"Of course," he murmured, gliding over to attend her. Andraste felt the girl's fingers run along her back to find the tiny strings that held the dress closed. "What do you think of the king?"

"Loki?" Andraste's brows dipped. The servant's attempt at gaining information was blatant.

"Yes." As each knot was slowly untied the dress loosened, revealing inch after inch of bare skin, until it slipped over the tops of her shoulders. "Do you think he is a good king?"

Andraste smiled, easily deflecting the question. "I think him clever. And not a little handsome." Loki's fingers faltered as she shrugged and the dress fell to the floor in a puddle. The air was too warm. How long had it been since he'd had a woman?

Andraste heard Inga inhale deeply. "Are you well?"

"Yes," the girl murmured, her fingertips brushing against the warm skin of her back. She had been naked beneath the gown.  _A most delicious piece of knowledge to have._

Andraste waited for her to pass her nightgown. Growing cold from being bare, she turned to the girl. "Inga?" The servant blinked, averting her eyes from Andraste's breasts, the peaks of which were hardened from the cool air, and the junction of her thighs. Quickly, she collected her nightgown and gave it to her. Andraste pulled it on, grateful for the layer against the cool air. "That will be all, thank you."

"Goodnight my lady," Inga muttered. Andraste watched with her brown knitted in confusion as the girl left, before dismissing it and climbing into bed.

Closing the chamber door behind him, Loki dispelled the illusion and let out a breath. What a fascinating turn of events.

* * *

London really wasn't great as far as aesthetics went, Jane Foster thought as she looked out the window, her hands buried in the sink that was filled with dirty plates and soapy water. She shuddered when something slimy brushed her hand as she scrubbed.

Her cough was deep and hoarse and her head was hurting. But not just hurting, it was pounding. "The result of too much work," Thor had told her with a gentle kiss that morning before leaving to meet someone from SHIELD. He had also told her to stay in bed and not do anything all day, but she was hardly going to listen to him.

Jane smiled fondly. He worried too much.

However this headache really was starting to pain her. Finishing the last of the dishes, she dried her hands before opening one of the cupboards and feeling for the painkillers that she knew were on the shelf.

A frown crossed her forehead as she reached up on her toes. Damn her short stature. Her vision swam a little as she inhaled deeply. "Ouch!" Also, damn her inability to keep her balance.

"Jane?" The baritone voice behind her made her turn around guiltily. Thor blinked at her. "What are you doing?"

"I can't reach the tablets," she explained with some frustration. He crossed the room and plucked them out easily.

"Couldn't reach?" he asked innocently, but she could see the laughing glimmer in his eyes as she swiped them off him.

"Shut up." He grinned and kissed her forehead."That feels good," she sighed, tilting up her chin to kiss him properly. Thor leaned down eagerly and she curled her arms around his neck, tugging the thick blonde hair that was tied back.

He moaned against her mouth and his hands slid to her waist as their lips pressed together greedily. Jane smiled as she felt his large hands ghost along the skin of her midriff and higher, till they cupped her breasts through the thin material of her bra.

This time they both moaned.

It was times like these that Thor was reminded of just how much better Midgard was compared to Asgard. He rubbed her through the lace, feeling her nipples harden and bloom beneath his fingers. Jane sighed happily in his ear. He hoisted her up atop the counter, pushing her hair away from her face; but just as she began to unbuckle his belt she felt a slight pain in her chest. Pushing him back, she covered her mouth and coughed.

Thor unbuckled the rest of his belt himself and she muttered an apology as the cough passed. "This is why I told you to rest this day," he chided her tenderly. She rolled her eyes and reached for him again.

They got no further before she started to cough again. Jane leaned forward, bracing a hand against the counter as her small body racked unmercifully. "I'm- I'm fine," she gasped as Thor reached for the kitchen roll. But the cough didn't subside and she accepted it with a small unsteady hand, pressing the paper against her mouth to muffle the harsh sounds.

When she took it away at last, it was spotted with blood.


End file.
